


Adventures in Politics (1/4)

by audeamus



Category: Pundit RPF, Pundit RPF (US)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-12
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audeamus/pseuds/audeamus





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:**|   
awake  
---|---  
 **Entry tags:**|   
[au](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/au), [fic](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/fic), [rating:pg](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/rating:pg), [series:whitehouse](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/series:whitehouse)  
  
Adventures in Politics (1/4)  
 **Word Count** : ~3700  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **Pairing/Characters** : most of the MSNBC, some CNN, one NBC pundit(s)  
 **Author Notes** : jumps around a lot, time-wise  
 **Summary** : Punditverse meets some kind of West Wing, except they're the ones running the show

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. 

  
_January 20th 2007, evening after Inauguration_

  
Rachel was buried in a pile of memos in her new office when a knock came at the door. She looked up and over her glasses to see a young man in sharply angled glasses wearing the expected suit and tie.

"Hey Chris, what can I do for you?"

"Just checking to see if you got settled in alright."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm a big girl, Chris, you don't need to-"

"I know."

"So...?"

"I need another excuse to see a friend?"

"Hm.. got any alcoholic offerings?"

Chris looked taken aback, "What, don't have your own bar yet?"

Rachel pouted and leaned back in her deceptively comfy chair, "Yet is the important word there, I plan on shopping for new supplies this weekend. Wanna come with me?"

"Sure. I need some things myself. Whatcha reading?" Chris then slid onto a table, perching himself there.

"Latest news from Yemen and Afghanistan slash Pakistan. I want to talk to you or Eugene about aid policy."

At his questioning look, she sighed. "They need water purification technology, Chris. We need to keep investing in this kind of technology, then share it."

Chris nodded and looked over some of the papers. "Wow.. 600% more efficient than the water desalination technology already in use? This definitely deserves some attention.. "

"I know right? If nations like Yemen and Pakistan had access to something like that.. "

They hmmed, bouncing more ideas, and pouring over the memos some more, until Chris' face lit up. "Remember when Keith did that piece on Bush's policy on Pakistan?"

"Oh god yes.. I'm glad he won't get quite so red in the face now.. unless he drinks a lot." They laughed until a throat cleared behind them. Whipping around, they only laughed more to cover their slight embarrassment. It was Keith himself and wearing the biggest grin either of them had ever seen.

"You're looking at the new Communications Director of the White House."

Rachel grinned and burst into giggles at his posture, like that of Superman. "I'm not.. laughing at your.. title.. you just look so.."

Chris finished through his own peals of laughter, "... so ridiculous... "

"Oh shut up, you're just jealous!"

That only made them laugh harder, and finally Rachel stood up and dragged an mock-frowning Keith and giggly Chris down the hall, saying,

"How about we gather up a group for a drinking raid on Lawrence's cabinets?"

Keith grinned and split down the hall, bringing Jon, Stephen, a very confused Richard Wolffe, and a young intern named Ana. She didn't look terribly pleased that Keith had dragged her here, but she brightened at seeing Rachel. It didn't take long for the two ladies to start chatting and hang onto each other, giggling about something. They had become fast friends (and Keith suspected more but said nothing) on the campaign, Ana making a snarky comment on one of the stops and Rachel taking her on as an intern after a quick interview. The redhead was snappy and giggly, and would swipe sips of Rachel's cocktails even when the campaign was early and Keith swore she was underage.

She had been hounding the Republican campaign for the longest time and had the best stories of seeing the candidate drunk off his ass and the staff trying to spin the memos and strategies the best they could. Ana was the center of her stories and she told them with a grin that looked easy and carefree.

All of them wandered around the building for a good twenty minutes, with Rachel and Ana trading stories and lines, until they finally reached the right end of the wing. An already irate Lawrence greeted them after a knock.

"What do you all want? It's way too late for this kind of thing.. " He grunted at them.

They all pushed past him, Rachel finding the cabinet as if she were a bloodhound on the trail, starting to pull out glasses and pour some nice-looking bourbon. Lawrence laughed once they disclosed their mission though and stayed to talk policy and possible candidates for a few unfilled cabinet positions. Rachel half curled into Keith's lap and side, sprawling her legs on the other part of the couch, laughing and talking louder than all of them. Even when the conversation died a little bit, they all relaxed, knowing they'd need to rest up and start the hard work tomorrow bright and early, but not quite wanting to leave yet. Richard broke the silence,

"Do you guys think about how we got here too, or am I being a nostalgic ass?"

There were a few scattered chuckles and Keith ruffled Rachel's hair, then reached to tap Richard on the shoulder, "You're far from an ass."

"How does that not sound reassuring?"

Rachel giggled, "Because he's the largest ass of us all?"

"I doubt the grammatical correctness of that statement. And its content."

"Bite me, I'm drunk." She stuck out her tongue.

"Excuses." Keith chuckled and sipped at his glass, letting the conversation drift over him, and letting his mind wander.

  
******

 _July of 2005_

  
Keith watched Brian give a rousing speech to the crowd, grinning every time the audience would shout a slogan or give a particularly loud cheer. This was the kind of thing he loved to see, when the stump speeches made a turn for the better or he got a better crowd than usual. It probably helped that the day was a bit cooler than the normal mid July day in Kansas, with plenty of light breezes.

He was just rounding up the speech on talk of sensibly cutting on subsidies in favor of better investment in higher-yielding crop technology, when Keith's blackberry rang rather loudly and was thus drawn into a long conversation with someone back at the campaign office. So long, in fact, that he missed the engines of the motorcade and press corp bus revving and then the whole ensemble pulling out onto the interstate highway. So when he hung up, he was staring at the bewildered and yelling and arm-waving figures of his fellow campaign staff as their rides disappear into corn fields.

"Well fuck."

Rachel was one of three campaign officers to be left behind it seemed, because it was her voice he heard clearly and next, "'Well fuck'? Is that ALL you can say? How about this: We're stuck in the middle of Kansas while our candidate drives away to catch a flight three hours and twenty seven minutes from the nearest big city, which is probably a two hour drive from here, and I have the papers needed for a speaking event that is on the destination end of said mentioned flight?!"

He watched her huff and groan for a few more minutes, then he asked one of the event attendees if there was a place he could rent a car. The man lifted the ball cap on his head, Yankees thank god, and said,

"Sure, there's a place in town, want a lift?"

"I'd like that very much, could they tag along?" Keith pointed over his shoulder at Rachel, Chris, and Richard. "They won't be too much trouble I think.. "

"No problem, plenty of room in the back. Hope they don't mind sheep though, I'm bringing a few in to see the vet." Keith grinned and considered riding in the back too, just to see their faces.

*****

Chris blinked and a particularly large sheep blinked right back, adding a loud 'baaaah', trying to eat his cap. "Augh! I thought goats ate everything, not sheep!" He clutched it close to his chest, shooing the baying animal away with the other hand. Richard laughed as a second sheep nuzzled his pockets and hands, looking for food evidently,

"You need to read up on livestock, Chris."

Rachel thankfully was not being assaulted by sheep, the ones close to her were more heavily sedated it seemed. All of them were thinking or calculating how soon they could get to Chicago from there. But that didn't stop them (even Keith up at the front) from looking out the windows or over the truck's sides at the scenery. At all the soon-to-be ripe corn.

Richard broke the silence after about an hour, "What's that idiom about corn and July?"

Chris said, "I think it's 'knee high by the Fourth of July,' pretty obvious, by the beginning of July corn should be ripe enough to be harvested."

"So where you lack in livestock, you make up for in.. common American idioms about produce. Very nice."

"Shut up."

"Rachel, why are you doing that?" Richard looked up and next to him, seeing Rachel's body twisted and leaning over the top, hoping she would not lose her balance or get pelted with bugs.

"Watching Keith act like a dog, he's sticking his head out the window!" She giggled and said this loud enough for them to hear a voice from the front,

"It's a nice breeze!"

*****

The next hour found the four of them thanking the sheep farmer many times over, and soon were on their way in a rented truck (though this one had a roomier backseat). Rachel had called shotgun while Richard had drawn the short straw for first driving shift. Chris tried to bounce speech ideas with Rachel but Richard would chime in with this fact or figure, making Keith's head spin a bit. Though that could have been the effect of being in a car for too long.

So he took a Tylenol PM and settled in for a long nap while the other three bounced and bantered and squabbled over strong or weak language. After awhile Rachel noticed that Keith's mouth slacked a bit in sleep, and tried to throw peanuts (she had a bag from the town's gas station) into said cavern to little success. She blamed the bumpy roads. Chris said it was poor aim, but consoling her that in the event of a presidential victory he would pitch on her White House softball team, or help her with throwing.

"Wait the White House has softball games? More than one team?"

Rachel nodded to Richard who had glanced over in question, "Well they will anyway, it's something Keith wanted to set up between the various branches and press corp, so everyone can have another way of battling over differences.... and we can all let off some steam."

"It's better than those tedious dinner parties in concept that's for sure." Chris frowned. "Jesus I hate those.. all that posing, people sucking up left and right.. "

Richard raised an eyebrow, turning onto a larger highway, "You didn't do any 'sucking up,' Chris?"

"Nope. Pure talent got me this far." He puffed a little.

"And Keith thinks you're cute."

He spit whatever water was in his mouth at the back of her seat, "Wha- huh?!"

"Smart too, I mean.. the cute part kept him listening. Then he liked your ideas and writing style. And credentials. All the stuff that gets you a second interview." She leaned around and snatched his water bottle, "Since you're just gonna spit up, I'll take care of this." All with an insufferable grin.

Chris glanced over at the still sleeping Keith a mixture of bewilderment and amusement, but not fear or any uncomfortable feelings, as far as Rachel could tell (Richard had his eyes on the road, allowing himself to only glance in the mirror briefly). To break the silence he asked,

"So about that softball team idea.. can we pick the teams for the Congress? Put all the old fogies up to bat?"

"No, there's an athletic requirement.. at least an age one. It's still on the drawing board at this stage. I think you will have to be under fifty or forty-five, though some the nimbler older members could be counted as an exception."

"No Supreme Court judges then?"

"Too small for one team."

Richard added, "We could invite the clerks and assistants. Maybe some younger judges from the area."

Rachel grinned, "Good idea."

"Who's coaching for our team?"

She turned back to Chris, "Keith for now, but a yet-to-be-named Assistant Coach is likely to take on most of the duties once things get super busy."

"Can we do this with the staff people even if we don't win?"

Here Rachel's eyes positively glittered, "Who says we'll lose?"

  
*****

 _Around early 2004, several weeks into campaigning_

Keith blinked some sleep from his eyes, not realizing that the latest applicant for the position of his assistant was finished talking. "Um.. thank you for your time miss.. " He glanced at the sheet of paper, "Miss Brown. We'll be sure to contact you after some more evaluation.. would you like for someone to walk you to the door?"

She huffed and strode out, leaving a last, "You'll call me soon enough, Mr. Olbermann." Her tone suggested a more vulgar name for his person, but Keith just sighed. She had spent a good ten minutes degrading Brian for having 'too many men' on the staff, then another ten or fifteen pestering him with questions on his candidate's positions on women's rights. Even after he reminded her that she should already have researched him before applying to be a part of the campaign this late in the game she just huffed testily at him.

This young woman was the fourth today who seemed to have either a touch of the obnoxious, anger issues, shyness, or long-winded talking syndrome (sometimes a combination of two or three). Keith removed his glasses and was rubbing the bridge of his nose when he heard a knock at his door,

"Katie, I'd just like some coffee at this point, pretty please?"

"Well I can deliver on one of those things, but the name's Chris. Christopher Hayes, sir."

Keith stopped pinching his nose, looking up and almost pinching himself, "You brought me coffee?"

"I intercepted your assistant and thought I'd do a courtesy." He smiled brightly, making Keith wish he could say something witty or something to keep it in place.

"Have a seat.. may I call you Chris? Mr. Olbermann is fine for now."

Chris sat, handing over the cup and his application, "Sure."

He leaned back, savoring the coffee as if it were ambrosia. Then sighing tiredly, he asked, "So Chris.. why us and not the other two candidates in the race?"

"You guys make more sense on a larger number of levels. Those are usually the campaigns I like to follow. And cheer on."

Keith sat up a bit, enjoying the frankness mixed with some hope. "Explain."

"Senator Williams' positions are, from what I've researched for past six months, solid, based on credible studies, have gone through numerous third party fact checks, and I think.. aligned with what the country needs: better infrastructure, gun control laws, comprehensive sex education, real clean energy not clean coal or nuclear power... just to name a few."

He grinned as Chris started to grin through this answer and asked, "Good.. good.. have you written anything on these or any related issues?"

"I have a few papers and articles published on infrastructure, public schools, and the how the US is behind in terms of science and math in some journals. I think they're listed on my resume.. that's attached to the application if you want to look them up later."

"Will do.. how about other writing experience?"

"I was on my university's Op-ed page for three years.. and worked with a radio station after graduation for three more, researching for news segments, sometimes writing the longer pieces. Some was for local news, but they let me do national pieces too. That should be listed in more detail."

"Indeed it is, I just like hearing it explained out loud." Keith smiled warmly, liking how this kid expressed himself already. He'd make a good speechwriter for sure. He asked some smaller questions, knowing he'd be hiring him. Chris responded with that smile and sometimes a laugh if Keith was lucky. But the day was getting late and both their stomachs growled rather loudly.

Keith gave him a sheepish look, "You're welcome to get pizza with the rest of the staff.. "

"Wouldn't that be odd if I'm not.. "

"I want you for the job. Consider yourself hired."

The absolute thrill that lit up his face surprised Keith, "Wha-what really? That's fantastic!"

He gave Chris a chuckle and another warm smile, remembering that kind of enthusiasm too well, "Yeah yeah, you won't be singing that tune once it gets to real crunch time."

Chris chuckled, and both their stomachs growled again; so he stood and waited for Keith to grab his coat, sliding his on in the process. "That's the real fun though, the flurry of polls coming in, surveys going out, frantic reading of newspapers, blogs, et cetera.. "

Keith chucked softly to himself, holding the door open, "You could call it that."

*****

 _July of 2005_

He snorted himself awake and found that the truck was being pulled into a motel, "Mmmph, how long was I out?"

Rachel turned in her seat, offering him some lukewarm coffee from a bygone gas station, "About four hours, you were mumbling in your sleep.. something about 'Campbell Brown?'"

"Hmm.. yeah, she wanted Chris' job."

"You were dreaming about my interview?"

Keith nodded and said in the tone of a minstrel reciting some poetry, "You were a beacon of light in the darkness of bad interviews.. a spot of hope in the bleak abyss of.." Richard laughed as Chris chuckled a bit and may have blushed (it was getting dark though and it could have been from all the sun exposure), as all of them were walking toward the motel entrance.

Rachel threw the now empty water bottle at Keith's head and it bounced off ('Ow!'), "Knock it off loverboy, and help me get some rooms."

"Aye, ma'am!"

******

The hotel's bar was to the point of sparsity that even Keith wanted to venture into the town for a decent beer. Rachel spotted a promising joint a few blocks from the hotel, and the whole party agreed that some sort of nerves-numbing alcohol consumption was in order.

Rachel convinced the bartender to let her hop over the counter and mix up some side cars and Jack Roses for the group, and Keith sipped the scotch she poured for him on the rocks with a content sigh. He surveyed the bar and its Budweiser signs, the empty stage while a jukebox played a mournful country song, as well as its few patrons: a couple tired farmers, a traveling businessman, and some wandering ranchers.

He didn't like the way one of the ranchers was eyeing Rachel, as if she were a piece of cattle he wanted to see on his table and dinner plate. Keith moved to stand between them at a stool, and felt a burning stare in his back. Rachel ignored both looks, humming with the jukebox as she poured a second Jack Rose for herself. But Keith's amusement as her started to caterwaul the wailing of Waylon Jennings was cut short by a shove to his shoulder.

It was the rancher, and the piss smelling beer breath was enough to almost knock him out. He glared at Keith and turned a leery grin at Rachel,

"You'd be sure prettier in some makeup and a dress darling, how bout I take you out on the town and show you how to be a lady?"

The hairs on Keith's neck rose faster than grass in a wind, but Rachel laughed, "I bet you could be a better lady than me sir."

The rancher frowned, "What are you saying lady?"

"I'm saying you should turn around and go back to your buddies, and grow some manners instead of a beard, before I pour some ice down your pants. I'm not in the mood to be told how to look and act, and I've had about the worst day yet."

He was undeterred, making Keith more amused than angry, "Well how bout I get you a good drink 'stead of that flashy thing you're sippin' and see if you can't find the mood?"

She laughed again, but it was a short hollower one, and she took an ice scoop, jumped the bar, yanked his pants out, and emptied the scoop down his drawers. The man yelped and jumped half a foot, glaring hard at her as he jumped around the bar and tried to get the ice cubes down and out of his pant legs.

Chris, Richard and Keith burst into even louder laughter as the man stalked off toward the bathrooms. Rachel smiled wide, exchanging amused looks with all of them. Keith loved that about her, how he didn't really need to step in (even when he wanted to).

****

 _Back to the present, 2007_

Keith snapped out of his long reverie, feeling someone nudging his shoulder. It was Rachel and she looked about to pass out, all giggly and pink in the face, but drowsy in her drooping eyelids and lazy movements.

"Can crash at my place if you dun wanna take the subway, Keith.. I'm only a few blocks away."

He smiled in thanks and helped her into a coat and down the hall with an arm hooked around hers, waving good night and goodbyes to all the staffers. They headed down a different street from Chris, Ana and Lawrence, making sure to keep a clear distance from the curb and poles. Rachel giggled at the C Street signs until they reached her block and relatively small apartment, the pair of them stumbling up flight after flight of stairs, probably waking more than a few neighbors.

He remembered visiting awhile ago, so she didn't need to show him where the bathroom was or the guest bedroom. Rachel just tossed fresh linens and a spare toothbrush at his head and stumbled into her own bed, clothes and shoes still on. Keith could only wonder how she didn't notice her glasses digging into her nose as he removed them and her shoes, knowing she'd thank him after some coffee and carbs.

Keith was asleep within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, the numbers on his digital clock blurring and beginning to strangely resemble the neon signs in a bar he once visited, out in the middle of metro DC. And then memory and dreams blurred.


	2. Adventures in Politics (2/4)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:**|   
awake  
---|---  
 **Entry tags:**|   
[au](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/au), [fic](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/fic), [rating:pg](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/rating:pg), [series:whitehouse](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/series:whitehouse)  
  
Adventures in Politics (2/4)  
 **Word Count** : ~4300  
 **Rating** : PG  
 **Pairing/Characters** : most of the MSNBC, some CNN, one NBC pundit(s)  
 **Author Notes** : more time jumping  
 **Summary** : Punditverse meets some kind of West Wing, except they're the ones running the show

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. 

  
_New Years Day 2004_

Keith shook his head at seeing his friend slumped over at the bar, looking like he was trying to merge with it. It looked like he had had a long night, and the staff around them kept shooting Lewis a mix of pitying and dirty looks, as though he were staying too long past closing time. He prodded him in the back, and Lewis gave a grunt,

"What?! Can't a man drink in fucking peace?!"

"Calm down Lew, I'm not shooing you out. Not the type to be a bouncer anyway."

Lewis turned on his stool and snorted, "Yeah you are. Stop kidding yourself, we're both fat middle aged men. And you're tall as fuck, you'd be perfect for the gig."

"Speaking of gigs.. I take yours didn't fly right?" Keith expected to be on the receiving of a glare and rolled his eyes, "Let me guess, some heckler wouldn't shut the fuck up even after you told him to?"

"That too. It was mostly because the crowd was full of hipsters and people who saw themselves above laughing. God I hate a lot of kids today."

He noted the many empty glasses and chuckled, "C'mon Lewis, lemme get you to your room.. you need to sleep this off."

Actually they ended up finding a bar still open a block away from their hotel, Lewis insisting that he needed something non-alcoholic and some water that didn't come from the hotel bathroom ('it tastes like complete shit, I think they just give the guests gray water'). Keith bought a coke and rum, feeling rather adventurous, until Lewis snorted,

"Doesn't Rachel teach you not to buy shit like that?"

"I beg your pardon? What's wrong with rum?"

Lewis sniffed his glass, "It's cheap as fuck rum, even I can tell in my inebriated state." And he waved the bartend over and kindly asked for a glass of whiskey instead for his friend. Even when served cheap liquor, Lewis made sure to be kind to bartending staff, they were overworked and overwhelmed with tourists asking for bad drinks (this was especially true in the Capital).

Keith drank the new glass, finding it to be more bitter but better tasting. The silence was comfortable, but he still wondered,

"Lew, do you really think you're cut out for this? I mean.. you're great and all. Funny as fuck, but.. you know?"

"Yeah yeah.. I just.. I love coming back to the stage though. I've been thinking about your offer too."

"Hm? And?"

Lewis paused and took a long sip of water, stirring to agitate the ice cubes and watching the whole thing swirl. "I.. I wish I could believe that this country can fly fuck right. And this Brian kid sounds like the man best for the job. I've seen him on CSPAN."

"So you're in?"

"Only on one condition."

"Name it."

"This guy wins, we're throwing the fucking best party DC has ever seen and believe me it has to be bigger than the Kennedy's."

"Done."

"Well then happy fucking New Year, and let's do this." Lewis raised his glass of water, chinking it with Keith's sidecar.

******

 _Mid-2007_

  
Thunder rumbled in the distance, making Molly scamper in the Oval Office and Poppy howl faintly. Brian groaned and set down his pen, reaching to rub Molly's ears.

"Where's your human, girl?"

Molly's only answer was a soft whine and lick of his hand. Brian straightened up and looked outside to see large plumes of clouds rolling quickly from the west. The lamps seemed to brighten as the world outside grew darker and darker, trees whipping in the quickly picking up wind. He sighed and went to close the doors, his thoughts interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in! Might want to bring your galoshes and raincoat!"

Keith eyed him as he walked in, "Those windows are stronger than they look I hope."

Chris piped up behind Keith, "Hurricane force winds are no match."

"You have proof?"

"White House trivia books. It happens when you live in DC and you run out of the default facts that you know from birth."

"I didn't get those!"

"With all due respect Mr. President, you were born in New Jersey."

Brian frowned in thought, "But don't I get those when I move to DC? Doesn't moving to the White House get me a pass?"

"I'm afraid not." Chris looked almost apologetic enough to be believable, but Brian wasn't fooled.

"What do you two want, then? Or are you scared of thunder too?"

"Keith might be, I have a feeling he is."

Keith coughed and threw Chris a look promising revenge for his future, "We're here with the reports and numbers on gun-related violence you wanted, Mr. President."

Outside the wind picked up speed, and the lights flickered just enough to make everyone a bit edgier, and Brian wondered if he'd have to read these numbers by candlelight. He knew that the numbers would be just as foreboding in the dark as they would be in stark daylight. It made him question deep deep down why anyone would want his job if he had to know things like this.

"Thank you Keith. Would you do me a favor and ask Erica to retrieve some candles and dog biscuits?"

"I.. sure. May I ask why Mr. President?"

"Just a feeling I'll be needing them." He reached to scratch Poppy's ears as both dogs wound around his legs, letting out soft whines at the continued thundering. Keith nodded and excused himself. Chris however stayed behind and reached into his pockets, offering a piece of jerky to Molly as she came near.

"Don't tell Anderson or he'll slaughter me."

Brian chuckled and nodded, pulling on his reading glasses to read the top page. Apparently in states where there were fewer gun-related crimes there were some strict regulations and waiting periods, but also more illegal firearms dealings going on, thus keeping the numbers higher then they ought to have been. He shook his head and sighed,

"Even after all my campaigning and trying to get inside the heads of people who crow about how 'unamerican' regulations are.. "

"I know sir, its not exactly a cut and dry issue." Chris stroked Molly's head while Poppy sniffed his pockets for more treats.

"It's quite a rare thing for issues directly connected to the Constitution to be cut and dry."

Chris didn't quite know what to say so he kept petting Poppy and Molly, watching fat raindrops pelt the tall glass windows. Erica came in a few minutes later, setting down a box of matches and several boxes of candles,

"Here you are sir.. should I get some cocoa next?" Her eyes lit up with amusement.

"No thank you, Miss Hill, that will be all." Brian huffed at her, but barely keeping back a smile as she retreated, remembering to open the other box of dog biscuits. "Should have asked for coffee though, I think I'll be up late reading these reports."

"Want me to stay and help sir?"

He waved a hand and pointed to the door, "No no.. you go home, Chris. Keith told me you've been coming in too early again. Go get some sleep."

Chris looked a bit surprised then curious, as if wanting to know if his boss had said anything else, but thought better of it. "Good night sir." And he left.

Brian chuckled and settled into one of the sofas while Poppy and Molly curled up in the chairs, wondering how much more obvious his Communications Director could be.

****

 _October 2007_

Lewis stared at the doors leading to the foyer and said some final prayers, making Keith snicker and snort behind him. Even though he had his own interest group to face, Keith couldn't help but be amused that Anderson had chosen Lewis to meet with Focus on the Family (not exactly Brian's favorite interest group). The President and Anderson had insisted that they had not sent Tony Perkins but a new director to meet with the White House.

The new director was rumored to be slightly more sympathetic to civil rights, but was more concerned about American families falling apart due to drug problems, gang violence and actual causes of family breakdowns. She also was more open to non traditional families, which excited Brian greatly.

Still though there was a board to deal with in the organization and Lewis had to meet not only with the Ms. O'Connor, but Perkins' old friends on the board to discuss issues with the normally irate but even more nervous and irritated Chief of Staff.

"So who are you meeting with, Mr. I-laugh-at-my-friend's-misery?"

"Environmental group trying to save the parks of Washington state."

"Oh?"

"Yes, apparently there's an oil company trying to buy up beaches and parks so they can drill for gas, and if there's any mishaps it'll be on their land."

"How come the Department of the Interior hasn't stepped in?"

"She's out sick, as is her staff. Mono I think. Brian didn't get donations from the company, but I'll bet my salary some Congresspeople have."

"Hm.. so what are you thinking of doing?"

"Not sure yet, I'd like to see what this group has in terms of numbers and ideas first, go from there."

Lewis nodded, tugged on his tie and finally stepped through the doors with a small polite smile on his face. Keith thought he looked about to bite his tongue off clean. He watched his friend shake a blond lady's hand, and his shoulders relax as the woman smiled and looked as if she were introducing the group. Keith caught snatches of conversation through the slightly ajar door, bits of 'yes I wish the administration would speak out against drug abuse' and Lewis' response 'are teachers doing that first and talking to parents?'

Keith drifted back to his days at school, sneaking cigars and cigarettes while he was at Cornell and wondering how he would react to a teacher catching him and dragging him to his parents. He got a good chuckle at imagining his sixteen year old self trying to explain it, but was interrupted by a polite knock.

"Mr. Olbermann?"

"Ah yes, you must be Betty McCoy with the Washington group right?"

"Correct. Thanks for meeting with me, I'm the director of WWPF, Washington Wildlife Preservation Federation." She held out her hand and he shook it, admiring the firm grip and eye contact. More than a few people were intimidated by his height and size, so she already had some respect in his eyes.

"Federation hm? So you're a collection of groups really."

She grinned, "Again, correct. We found we get more leverage in the environmental lobby if we stand together on issues."

Keith raised an eyebrow, "Sounds a bit.. power hungry."

"Not more power hungry than other lobbies. We just speak for a population that's half unable to speak for itself." She paused to fold her arms behind her back and straighten up a bit and Keith could see she was taller than she first had appeared, "Mr. Olbermann, I'm not some hippie who wished she had been a flower child, I see the economic benefits of preserving stretches of land for the future, how parks can bring stimulus money to places that really need it, and how self sustaining communities can flourish in a world market. And I have the numbers to prove it."

He then turned as a man walked in carrying large folders filled with papers of different colors and color tabs on them. He wore light glasses and looked the part of studious assistant, fingers itching to hand his boss the right paper or note. Keith nodded to him, and he moved to the side gesturing to a room with plenty of table space and room,

"Shall we get started then?"

****

Lewis looked over his shoulder briefly, watching Keith and the other two disappear into the board room, then back to Ms. O'Toole and her fellow board members,

"Would you three like something to drink or eat? The mess has a pretty good lunch spread, otherwise we have a room set aside for further discussion."

Ms O'Toole smiled and let him lead the way to their own room, stopping to survey the large painting of Teddy Roosevelt and the newer decorations that the President had picked out,

"He was a family man wasn't he? An appropriate setting for our meeting then."

Lewis grinned a bit as he did have a small fondness for the past President, how could you not like a guy that grabbed life by the horns and held on, enjoying the buck and throw of it all?

"He was big on promoting fitness and good health too, part of your organization's drive. But down to the serious things.... "

One of the men accompanying Ms. O'Toole shortly asked for a glass of water and Lewis obliged, watching the man suck it down like it was the best tasting liquor he had ever sampled. His attention was drawn away from the man's bobbing adam's apple as a throat was cleared,

"You never answered my question from earlier, Mr. Black, how can the White House help us?"

"Fredrick! We want to work with the Williams administration not demand things of them!" She turned to Lewis and smiled apologetically, "We had a long flight.. still tired I think."

Lewis nodded and sank into a chair, steepling his fingers. "Sit down if you would.. I think I can think of something we can do."

*****

Brian sank his face into his hands and grumbled out, "You did WHAT now Lewis?"

"I asked the little fucker to take his social conservative head and shove it up his ass, along with his pompous agenda too. And that I'd be glad to help."

"You understand I was trying to get their input on some substantial issues right?"

"You don't go to these groups for input on a medical problem. You go to, get this _medical professionals_ , like doctors and social workers. I don't want federal funding to go to some crackpot 'agency' that preaches the Bible at some poor schmuck trying to find actual counseling!"

"Lewis, please you know as well as I do there's a huge shortage of those in the country, especially in places out in the middle of nowhere. We need to know how big the problem is, these facilities need funding and they're not crackpot places.. they do good work. And think about it.. how is some hick town supposed to get life saving treatment for heroin addiction if they're too busy trying to pay down loans and for crumbling buildings?!"

The chief of staff snapped his mouth shut once then opened it, "How the fuck are you supposed to fund ALL of them though?"

"You sound like a fucking Conservadem, we're not going to fund them all at once. You know as well as I do the biggest problem areas are large cities." He stood and walked around the Oval Office, rubbing his chin with his hand in deep thought or frustration. "So we expand the funding to cities like LA, New York, Portland, DC, and Orlando, and move on from there.. "

Lewis nodded, "I'm sorry sir I just.. you have a good point. Are you sure its our position to do this?"

Brian smiled and clapped a hand on Lewis' shoulder, "'Provide for the general welfare'? Of course Lew. And I swear to you I'll do everything I can to make sure every dollar is spent wisely."

"You fucking better. Or you're gonna lose my vote next time around."

"Yours and many many others."

******

Keith, meanwhile, was doing his best not to hit the desk with his forehead. In his defense, Ms. McCoy was running off a lot of numbers and he hadn't had his second cup of coffee that day. He blinked in the vain hope it would wake him up, and for a minute or two it did.

".. so that's how removing dams in this river will help the town downstream.. "

"Wait wait, back up. What dam is this?"

"The East River Dam."

"That.. if I remember correctly, that brings a lot of electricity to the very same town."

"Well yes.. but... "

"Are you proposing another source of energy? It's a lot better than coal and natural gas, Ms. McCoy."

"I am, if you had been listening, I would have shown you the tidal and geothermal plants that are non-polluting!"

Keith felt very sheepish, "I.. and how much would these cost?"

"About a third of the costs of running that dam."

"Oh."

She gave a long groan and gestured for her assistant to hand her a file and she shoved it into Keith's chest, "Read these and then get in contact with us and Congress."

"But... " But nothing, she had left the room, assistant trailing behind her. Keith was left with a thick folder of what looked like some complicated charts and notes, and a small but growing headache. He wondered how Lewis was doing, as he retreated to his office. He plopped the folder onto Chris' desk and the man blinked up at him,

"Er.. dare I ask how it went?"

"Smoother than I expected but I am seriously considering wringing the neck of the Interior and Energy Departments. And the Secretary of both."

Chris swiveled in his chair to pour Keith some needed coffee and after his boss explained what had just happened he chuckled and said, "Do you know that was one of Brian's promises? Other than better communication with the departments and cabinet members, he said we'd come up with real solutions to the country's energy needs. And here you seem to have an opportunity, why grumble?"

"Because I'm an asshole until noon and two doses of caffeine?"

"Fair point. And I'm one to talk really."

"Are you kidding? You, Rachel and the younger staff are so perky in the morning I can't stand it." He chuckled into his cup, "Don't be an asshole like me when you get older, promise Chris?"

"No dice, I have to have some thicker skin if I want to fight off old age." Here he flexed a bit, and Keith threw a crumpled up paper ball at his head.

"Speaking of opportunities, Lewis should be coming by with some reports too. Once you read them, you and I can talk to Brian when we give him his afternoon briefing."

Chris threw an eraser back and started perusing the file folder, m-mmming to show he heard what Keith had said. Keith watched him for a few more minutes then settled behind his desk to look over some of the papers, and then check the wires to see what Congress was up to. He found himself looking forward to Rachel's daily visit, once she finished her midday briefing, and his stomach hoped she'd bring lunch. Just another day.

****

  
"Hey Mr. Engel, good morning and Merry Christmas."

Richard smiled at the guard checking his ID, feeling tired but glad to be home from his trip to Afghanistan. "Thanks Steve.. happy holidays to you. Tell the Mrs I said hi, will you?"

"Sure thing."

He sighed and breathed in the warm air, his nose greeted with smells of pie, cheese, fresh bread and ham. These smells became more prominent as he walked past the hall leading to the mess as he traveled to the west wing of the White House. He also caught whiffs of pine needles and poinsettias, and he took in the sight of Christmas tree after Christmas tree down the halls.

It was mid-December but the staff had been busy getting ready for the holiday season. Even now there were people on ladders setting up electric candles and garland on the mantles of each room. He even caught a glimpse of Rachel directing some of the heavily trafficked rooms, and heard her distantly humming 'White Christmas.'

He climbed the last set of steps and came to a long corridor filled with bustling interns. Richard even spotted a silver head of hair, bobbing and weaving among his staff and Anderson Cooper's voice drifted toward him,

"No no no, there's a tree missing here, did someone move it to the East room again?"

A nearby giant of a man chuckled, and Richard knew it was Keith, "Possibly, I'll go check shall I?"

The irate chief of staff chimed in, "Why the fuck is there all this fuss over Christmas anyway? It's ridiculous!"

"Calm down Lew, you know it's better than the dog and pony show our predecessors put on. It's the true spirit of the holiday we're trying to show.. " Keith wrapped a hand around Lewis' shoulder and Richard watched them stride down the hall, still arguing about how much effort to put into decorations. Lewis seemed to want to focus more on helping local charities and making sure more families could have a fucking Christmas. Keith took this into account, but he pointed out that a lot of staff and interns were away from families and home, so this meant a lot to them. Lewis took that in stride but still looked as if he had more objections as they rounded the corner and walked out of sight.

Richard turned back to the end of the hall, and was face to face with Brian's grinning face, "Ah, hello Mr. President."

"Richard, what can I do for you?" Brian beckoned him toward a set of doors, and he was soon being ushered past Erica's desk and into the Oval Office.

"I came to brief you on Afghanistan sir." Brian's expression turned a bit more serious and he nodded for Richard to continue, pouring the two of them cups of coffee.

"That was my first thought, I caught your report last night. Do you have something to add?"

"Yes sir.. it's about the Taliban. I've been keeping my ear on the wires, and I think they're planning some sort of leader's conference in a few weeks. All my contacts point to it. But it's not bad news. We all have heard that there may be talks of negotiation with British troops, possibly American. It's not a hunch sir, I'd bet my job on it."

Brian raised an eyebrow, "But, the question is why? And what do they want in return?"

"We don't know sir, but I'm going back next week to find out. I think a planned leak to the press once the talks begin will give some leverage to the US and peacekeeping organizations, but I sense you'd like some time to talk to people and come up with a strategy."

The President sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingers and thumb, slumping in a chair. But he didn't look tired as much as hopeful. "It would be fantastic if it were true. We've been there too long, Richard."

"Agreed sir." Richard let out a small smile, "I love what your people are doing for the decorations sir."

"Me too. Erica brought in her nephews and nieces to help, but they're just running around with Anderson's dog Molly somewhere." Brian chuckled and stood up, straightening his tie absent-mindedly. "Makes me wish I had brought my sister's munchkins too."

They walked out out of the office after Richard finished his coffee, still chatting about the holidays. He nodded at the Marines and Secret Service members who nodded or saluted as he passed, and Richard spared a moment to admire the President's posture, how straight-lined his shoulders looked except for the little dent where some weight had settled, bending him a bit. But Brian held his head up, grinning and chuckling at a joke that Keith told in a booming voice to Rachel.

Anderson came into view, covered in tinsel and running a bit toward Richard and Brian, almost colliding with the party,

"Ooof! Sorry sir, Richard.. I'm on the lamb you see... " Anderson whipped around and groaned as the shrieks of little girls and boys traveled down the hall. "From my doom."

One of Anderson's nieces came bouncing down the hall and collided with 'Unca Andy' which amused the staff greatly. Rachel caught the other bouncing niece, rewarded with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. The White House photographer tried to get pictures, but the whole group moved too quickly down the hall, Keith leading the way.

Anderson's niece turned to him as they were all getting their coats and gloves, "Unca Andy, where we going?"

"Christmas shopping sweetie, we're helping Santa get gifts for you and your mommy and daddy."

The little girl gasped and covered her eyes, "Tell me when they're wrapped ok?"

Anderson giggled and peeled her fingers away, "We'll send you to get treats with Uncle Keith when we pick yours, so you don't have to cover your eyes."

She giggled and hugged his neck, "K!"

He dressed her and her siblings in warm clothes, pulling her back into his arms as they tramped out into the snow as a group. The little girl giggled more and stuck out her tongue, catching flakes in her mouth.

"You too Unca Andy, catch some pretty snow!"

He smiled and stuck his tongue out and felt the cold melt on his lips and teeth. All too soon they were bundled into the motorcade and were on their way. No matter how many times they visited the city, the kids gawked and ahhhed at the monuments, asking question after question about their histories. Brian was all too happy to play tour guide and Anderson couldn't help but wonder if his niece would realize someday what special moments these were. Maybe she did now, if her wide-eyed curiosity and attention on the President was anything to go by. He and all the staff probably got those looks now and then when it sank in what jobs they were lucky to have.


	3. Adventures in Politics (3/4)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:**|   
awake  
---|---  
 **Entry tags:**|   
[au](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/au), [fic](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/fic), [rating:r](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/rating:r), [series:whitehouse](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/series:whitehouse)  
  
Adventures in Politics (3/4)  
 **Word Count** : ~5000  
 **Rating** : R  
 **Pairing/Characters** : Keith/Rachel, Beck appears, and the usual crew  
 **Author Notes** : same time-jump nature of writing  
 **Summary** : Punditverse meets some kind of West Wing, except they're the ones running the show

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. 

  
_February 2008_

  
The first thing Keith was aware of when he first heard the news that the health care reform bill had passed in the Senate with sixty one votes, was Rachel bouncing down the hall and slamming him into the wall of his office, lips locked on his. It was plenty of teeth and tongue, and thoroughly pleasant if a bit short. His back would hurt for awhile, but having her nails dig in his hair and her tongue touching his was more than enough to make up for it. Too soon it broke and god she looked gorgeous all bright eyes and joy,

"We did it!"

"I saw, but why the..?"

But she shook her head and shushed him, pulling him to a long, gentler kiss that left his insides all curling. It seemed all slow motion now, with her hands petting his face and neck, then resting on his waist. Keith could have sworn he heard the click of a lock and when he opened his eyes at her breaking the kiss, he could see that she had locked the office door.

Still in slow motion Keith felt her hands on his shoulders, nudging him to the couch, and then she was straddling his lap and rocking her hips deliberately and rhythmically. He gasped at each of her touches, but something clicked in his mind, and he reached up in an attempt to push her up or off,

"R-rach.. we shouldn't.. what if they need us.. the others?"

"Shhh.. press conferences are tomorrow."

"Not just.. that.. "

But she ground her hips in a swivel that would have made a religious man blush and call blasphemy. Keith, being a relatively secular man, merely groaned and forgot all protests to this divine creature in his arms. It occurred to him that it was odd to think her divine, but his body didn't care. As long as she kept up those kisses and pushed harder on his wrists, making him long and moan, he'd be more than happy to worship her body and soul. He could go mad, get drunk, and be dazed by the feel of her warmth and touch.

Keith panted softly when she released his wrists, unbuttoning his cuffs and removing his shirt, tossing it to his chair. He reached a shaky hand to pet her shoulder, pushing the jacket off her shoulders. She allowed it, even peeling the tee shirt once her jacket had been tossed as well.

"Rachel.. you.. are you sure I'm not hallucinating?"

She laughed and cupped his cheeks, petting his face with her thumbs, "Yes, unless its a mutual kind. Now stop avoiding looking at me. I'm not some damsel."

He blushed and looked her over slowly, feeling his insides twist now but not in an unpleasant way. As if from a distance, he watched his hand pet her collarbone and slip down to brush over her nipples. Keith gave one an experimental flick of his tongue, tasting sweat in addition to something vaguely sweet and soapy. Rachel groaned impatiently and pushed his head closer, so he obliged her by sucking on the bud, making her start to rock and moan.

Keith felt her nails scrape along the beck of his neck, making goose bumps rise on his skin and he groaned, sucking harder, moving from one to the other until Rachel whined. He grinned, feeling more confident now, wrapping his hands around her hips and pulling her tight against him. She complied, snaking an arm behind and around his back and holding him as she continued to rock and grind their hips together.

He had a vague half thought of locking the door and of sounds drifting through the walls, but he remembered how thick the walls were and stopped worrying. Keith now focused entirely on making sure that Rachel kept that delicious friction going, and making her gasp out all sorts of delicious sounds. He squeezed a nipple with his lips at the same time as wriggling a hand into her pants and beyond until he felt warmth and moist softness. Keith moaned low in harmony with her, thrusting two thick fingers up into Rachel's cunt, watched her mouth make an 'o' shape and her cheeks rise in color and heat. He pressed a thumb on her clit once he found it, feeling his pants tighten further as she keened and rocked faster in his lap.

Keith got an idea and switched their positions, but instead of sitting on her lap, he knelt and pushed her pants down. Rachel make a low sound of protest at the loss of contact, but it turned into one of pleasure and surprise as Keith buried his face between her legs and began licking her eagerly. He swore he heard her purr as he sucked on her clit, and the thought of his friend being a lapcat of sorts made him rumble and chuckle.

He knelt there, thrusting one, two, three fingers into her cunt, making her moan and buck for what seemed like an hour or two (he loved every moment, every gasp and whimper). Finally he felt her squeezing his fingers and he tasted a new salty sweetness on his tongue.

Keith stayed there for awhile, humming against her inner thigh, licking her lazily even after the last of her come was gone. He nuzzled her after, looking up at her pink and smiling face, glasses almost knocked off her nose with a soft smile of his own.

"I.. knew you could do.. other things.. more useful things with that smartass.. mouth."

He barked out in laughter, sliding onto the couch and nuzzling her bare shoulder, "Of course. I just need to demonstrate to prove it true."

She hummed and giggled, tilting his chin up and kissing him on the mouth, just as lazily as his earlier licks. He let a low rumble out, but didn't dare pull her to his lap and give him some kind of pressure for his own needs. He still didn't quite believe that she was in his office, her taste lingering on his tongue; it was too good to believe as true. She nuzzled his shoulder and let out a long sigh, curling into his side.

"Of course you know Rach, I'm gonna have a hard time explaining the odd stain or two to Chris.. Rach?"

But she was fast asleep and drooling a bit. He stared a bit, incredulous, but shrugged and yanked a blanket off the back of the couch and covered them both. He'd worry about the stain (among other things) tomorrow.

  
******

 _December 2005_

  
"You want me to.. what?"

Brian smiled in his rolled up sleeves all fresh from a debate, as was Stephen, with a shining grin on his face, "I want you to be my Vice President."

Stephen laughed for a few minutes, until he saw that while Brian was grinning he was completely serious (he could pull off the look all too well, it helped him win points in debates and with crowds, though Stephen would not admit this immediately of course).

"But.. Senator... what about someone else further in the polls?" They both knew Stephen was way down in the numbers even if he did well in key states. "You know Rahm would make an excellent choice. Or Anderson!"

Brian settled on the same couch as Stephen and wrapped an arm lightly around the young Senator's shoulder, "You're more passionate. And I could use your numbers in the Carolinas and Texas. They love you there."

"Only because I kiss ass." Stephen laughed softly, but only to cover his shock. "And they love my fried food recipes and accent."

"Isn't that what the last stretch of the race is though? That's how we get in the White House and do something." Brian's eyes lit up a bit and Stephen couldn't help but see himself on that stage in front of millions, accepting the Vice Presidency and presenting America's new President to the fury of flashes of cameras and screams of excitement.

"Yes I suppose you're right. I.. give me some time to think it over?"

Brian grinned even wider than before, waving to Stephen's campaign manager, Evie as she walked in. "Of course. Give me a buzz if you have an answer." And with that he was gone, whipping through the curtain to cross the stage and join his own crew. Stephen smiled at Evie, kissing her cheek and taking the cup of coffee in her hand with a grateful smile.

"You really are my lifesaver."

"Oh hush and call your boyfriend already." She giggled and settled behind a computer, checking the mail for the campaign. "Tell him how you kicked ass tonight."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better! And you know as well as I do Brian was way better.. " He chuckled and dialed a number, walking around with the coffee. It rang twice, then clicked and a sleepy voice answered,

"Jon here."

"Jon! Are you watching that Matthews guy dissect my haircut yet?"

"Nah I changed it to Blitzer, I saw how you did though. Was amazing, really." Stephen could hear the small smile in his lover's voice.

"Thank you.. though that's not the reason I called."

"Oh?" Jon paused to take a sip of beer and lower the volume of the TV, "What? Did Evie grill you harder than usual?"

"Brian asked me to be his Vice President if he gets the nomination."

"You're fucking with me."

"Why would I fuck with this?"

"You would, that's that."

"I'm not! And I'm still in some shock!" He shook the coffee in such dangerous arches that Evie had to make a spectacular maneuver to salvage the drink. In heels. He mouthed several thank yous and swung his empty hand instead, "This is huge! I.. really want to. I don't want to miss out on this guy, he's fucking brilliant you know?"

"I do know.. Stephen.. I.. you know you're gonna take this. And I think you should. You two and your people could do so much."

Stephen let out a long sigh and chuckled, "It would be hard. I want you to be there too."

Jon giggled softly, "You want to yank me along? That's love, Colbert."

"I want you to see what we can do, first hand."

"Careful Stephen, you sound like you got bit by the hope bug that's going around." But he chuckled and said, "Ok if you take this.. we'll see if he has something in mind for me."

"Fair enough. Want to grab some drinks or dinner when I'm in New York this weekend?"

"Sure. Give me a ring when you're in. Now go get some sleep, Mr. VP-to-be."

"Night Jon. Don't watch Wolf nanner on for too long." He clicked his phone shut and leaned back into the sofa, already looking forward to Friday but also getting lost in daydreams of flashing lights and walking up to that podium..

*****

 _May of 2008_

  
Rachel grumbled as she tottered down the hall and to the ball room, feeling absolutely ridiculous in heels and a dress. It was only a few more feet, she told herself, just a few more feet, ten minutes of mingling and eating and you can escape to go bother Keith. Or watch the Red Sox game on her DVR. Maybe with Keith and a few bottles of applejack.

"Rachel!"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. She swiveled around without falling on her ass and scowled at the man bounding toward her, "Yes, o bane of my Red Sox-less night?"

"Ew you still watch them?"

"Fan since I was a kid, what's up?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go raid the party's bar." She lightened and hooked her arm with his, "I thought I was the bane of your existence?"

"You mentioned the magic 'b' word."

Keith chuckled and together they walked through the tall double doors, finding the bar quickly. Seeing Rachel get plastered albeit slowly was a treat to see, and soon the heels were kicked off and she was sliding along the floor between drinks, having a fun time. Thankfully no cameras were allowed or YouTube would have had some very amusing camera phone footage. What stopped her fun was a lone click of a camera.

He whipped around and saw a young woman in rectangular glasses and a brown bun, wearing an odd looking pants suit and holding the source of his concern, "Hey there aren't photos allowed Miss.. ?"

The woman smiled, sending a chill up his spine and it left him cold all over. "Sarah Palin, FOX news."

****

They were just able to escape after they realized what sort of lady Ms. Palin was, Keith chuckling but Rachel looking a bit more serious.

Keith patted her on the shoulder, "Hey why the worried look? She's just a kook reporter.."

"I dunno, something about her threw me off. Something more than just.. lack of brains."

"What, as if she's some mastermind planner.. "

"Maybe not but.. " Rachel finally opened the door to her office, relieved to find it empty. Some nights she didn't have the energy to deal with Ana. "She's up to something and I want know to what. How else would she know about Brian's trip to Israel and Palestine?"

"Hm.. ok that's a bit worrying, I didn't catch that."

"It was when you were going back to the bar for something. She cornered me and tried to elbow it out, like who else was going, if we were going to meet with and I quote 'terrorist groups.'"

Keith raised both eyebrows, "Interesting how she thinks that because there's a Democrat in office that we're eager to meet with someone who would very much like to kill us with a bomb or AK-47."

"Oh c'mon those cells aren't so bad! One cup of coffee and Brian would be best buddies with any of those Hamas people, he's that kind of guy." She smiled and winked, her words slurring a bit.

"That's possibly.. very offensive, but I may be a little too.. drunk to be sure."

Rachel hummed and poured herself a new glass of bourbon, after fishing it from her small cabinet, "Feel up to getting more drunk? I'm in the mood for drunk scrabble or something to that nerdy extent."

"Why do you feel the need to prove your nerd cred to me? I know you wear weird sneakers to press briefings and celebrate weird holidays. I even caught you and Stephen exchanging the Vulcan salute the other day."

Rachel grinned, "That's more geek cred.. and just.. forgot-my-other-even-geekier-shoes-that-day cred." She bobbed her head from side to side, still smiling.

"Way too long a name for cred."

"Drink your damn bourbon, nerd."

"So you admit I have more nerdiness than you?"

"What have you collected since before your balls dropped again?" She arched an eyebrow in a way that Keith thought previously only Stephen could achieve.

"Nice touch there, mentioning my balls."

"It set up a time frame."

"Your excuses, I shall not question them."

"Except right before a briefing when I have a massive hangover.. like tomorrow I suspect."

"Nah this one I'll know for sure you're not faking."

Rachel let out a small pout, "I never fake hangovers, that would be an insult to the undrunk alcohol!"

"That's some backwards or odd logic there, Maddow." He sipped the bourbon finally. "So I'll let you sleep in a bit before I send Richard with your memos and briefings."

"What, you too busy to visit me tomorrow?" She made a huge sigh of disappointment. "My own boss! No time for his special underling."

"Yep, chock full of meetings with Congress people about the gun control bill and banking bills on the floor of the Senate and House. Fun times. I can't wait to deal with NRA and Bank of America spokespeople right before my coffee." He rolled his eyes and settled onto the couch.

"Hm.. you could always send them Lewis' way, he'd tear them a new asshole to shove their heads up into more comfortably."

"It's an unpleasantly amusing image but I'll be a big boy and handle them." Keith let out a puff of air and found himself craving a cigar to match the smokiness of the bourbon, but instead tugged his hair. "I think I'm getting as white as our silver fox."

"Now you choose to be vain? Out of my office Olbermann." She laughed.

"Not vain, just observant. It's not just the POTUS who gets greyer or whiter hair as a result of the job."

"I work for the White House too, you vain man."

"You'll look fantastic with a little silver." Keith batted his eyes, a sight Rachel was glad to witness whilst drunk (it was even funnier). She threw a stress ball thing at him anyway, wildly missing by a few feet. He chuckled, "Good thing you didn't go into baseball, Maddow. Your beloved Red Sox would never have recruited you and your sad pitch."

"Watch it Olbermann, or I'll kick your ass at the softball tournament."

"In your dreams, Rach. I have a secret pitch that has never let me down."

"Because you never used it?"

"Ouch! But I do only save it for.. extreme cases." He wagged a finger, thankfully not in her face.

She coughed to hide her giggles, sipping more applejack. "I bet I look better in pinstripes than you, Yankee boy."

That took Keith aback and his poor alcohol soaked mind had to imagine the Press secretary in such an ensemble and soon the image was burned into his mental retina, "Possibly. Only one way to find out."

"Me kick your ass in political softball?"

"Nope. You model the uniform for me. I need to approve the new uniforms as the manager and all."

"Now you're just being a giant perv."

"If by perv, you mean a thoughtful manager, yes I am." He grinned insufferably, the kind that made Rachel want to both smack him on the back of the head at the same time as do something not in the code of office ethics. Or the code of platonic office relationships. She resorted to drinking from the bottle now, and ducked under her desk, bringing out a Trivial Pursuit game board.

"I challenge you to a drinking and trivia match!"

He chuckled and sank into an armchair, while Rachel took the couch, "And what are the rules?"

"Every wrong answer you take a shot."

"Simple and straight forward, I approve."

"Wasn't asking for 'pproval Olbermann." He chuckled at her blossoming slurring, and settled in for what looked to be an interesting game, trying not to pay too close attention to her dress straps slipping.

****

 _the morning after_

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Nope."

On the television set in Keith's office set to CSPAN it showed a raving and yelling man at the podium, the ticker at the bottom naming him as Representative Glenn Beck. Keith turned up the volume, making the ravings louder and seemingly more pronounced,

"... And THAT is why this bill cannot pass! It is the work of insiders and people who aren't listening to the American people. You all know that this chamber is the one closest to the ear of the American people, just as it has always been since the days of the Founding Fathers. Well why not invite the people into this chamber and the Senate? Why doesn't the President invite more citizens into the White House if he's such a man of the people?

"I'll tell you why.. it's because he and his people wheedled their way into the system, bent it their way.. and now they want this bill to pass.. and take one of the most fundamental rights.. the right to bear arms people! Do you want your constituents angry at you, fellow Congressman? Do you want them to take their grievances about the violation of such a right to your office door? I don't think you do!

"That is why I am calling you Congress to kill this bill that would strike down on the rights granted us by the Bill of Rights, handed down to us by our beloved Founding Fathers who wanted the people to be able to defend themselves if the need should arise!" Here the man pounded the podium with his flat palm, and Keith snorted as he saw that the man was starting to tear up. Anderson shushed him when he started to open his mouth, and the Representative continued,

"My amendment, which I am proposing, will stop the madness of this 'gun control' bill, and return the rights to the people! Stand with me and with the American people Congress!"

He smacked the podium once more and it was all Keith could do to keep from bursting into loud belly laughs. Did this man really believe that a mostly Democratic House of Representatives would vote for this kind of lunacy? Every set of numbers that his staff had gotten their hands on pointed in the direction that the American population's views on gun ownership were swinging toward control and reasonable ownership policies like waiting periods and background checks. Even the fringes were so marginalized now, that about seventy percent believed in the kind of gun control that the current bill in the House contained. The NRA continued to raise a fuss, to be expected, but enough organizing and town halls had brought convincing counter-arguments to the table.

But Chris looked less than hopeful and amused, frowning at the television in what looked like deep thought, "He kind of reminds me of this one guy I met back before the primaries. Wait.. yeah he was some kind of businessman, I guess he's a freshman Rep now."

Keith perked a bit in interest, "Go on? Was he waving some sign at a rally or what?"

"Not really, he confronted Rachel and I as we were leaving one of the campaign offices in New York. He looked furious with us, even though we had clearly never met before. Rachel was polite, did most of the talking. He kept yelling at us that Brian and the rest of us socialists would kill his business. I think he sold firearms.. or maybe he was just a down-on-his-luck bank manager. Rachel kept trying to reason with him, explaining the small business tax cuts to him and how we would as an administration cut the large banks down a few notches. But that seemed to enrage him more, and he called her an upstart woman who should leave the men to talk." Chris paused for a sip of tea, "Now that I think back, he smelled drunk."

Now he really did laugh, though it was dampened by the attack on his friend. Some men just don't get it, that there are smarter women than men out there. And somehow this mad man had been elected to Congress, that part didn't really surprise him. Lawrence, from working in the Senate, had shared many stories about the various degrees of bigotry and asshattedness that converged in that particular chamber. Why should it be limited to that chamber though, or really any branch of government, Keith smiled a bit wryly.

"Might as well keep an eye on him though, it never hurts to watch for weeds in the garden right?"

"Has Erica gotten you into helping her and Anderson outside too?"

"Not yet, but I sense the time is nigh."

*****

Richard sighed and got up to get some more tea and buttered noodles from the mess while Keith grumbled at the CSPAN callers agreeing with everything that Congressman Beck was saying. His hangover from the ball last night was still grinding on his head, making everything seem louder and more annoying than normal.

He met Chris on the back and was handed a small baggy.

"Here. It helps more than noodles, I promise."

"Chris?! Is this-?"

"Yes you pansy, it's grass. Now keep it down, I haven't had a chance to have any for my own headache."

Richard's eyes boggled a bit more then he sighed, pocketing the bag in his jacket discreetly, "I cannot believe you have such a thing.. this is almost as bad as the time I caught Rachel with bitters that she had snuck from the White House stores.. "

"We have cocktail supplies in a pantry somewhere?"

"Apparently so."

They began walking toward Keith's office, but Chris took a turn toward the gardens. Richard hoped the Secret Service would keep it quiet that he and the deputy Communications director were about to enjoy some not-quite-legal recreational activities. He calmed down once he saw that the closest guards were only stationed at the gates; none appeared to be patrolling today.

Chris began the process of rolling a short joint, being careful not to spill any materials. Richard dug a lighter from his jacket (in case he needed to light any candles, he wasn't a big smoker), and handed it to Chris. He watched his friend take a short test inhale, and letting out a content sigh of smoke,

"It's a good batch.. here."

And indeed after several puffs, Richard's head felt less pound-y and more relaxed, and he now craved a fried bacon, cheese, and tomato sandwich (though he had never wanted such a thing in all his recollections). He was free to breathe in the leftover fumes, and enjoy the midday spring air, his hangover either pushed to a back burner or completely gone. But Chris prodded him in the shoulder and snatched the joint from his fingers,

"You were just letting it burn.. "

"Ah! Sorry.. not usually a smoker.. "

Chris shrugged and rolled his head around on his neck, various joints and air sockets popping and cricking, "It's alright, I'll give you leeway this time." His grin resembled a familiar cat from a fairytale, and Richard wondered if he could disappear if he wanted to. Richard would bet the rest of his bag of pot that Keith and Chris got their inspiration for some of Brian's speeches from that kind of logic that some of the characters used. But that could have been the pot talking. Then Chris-the-Cheshire Cat was talking,

"I bet Keith could use some right now, that Beck was really rubbing him the wrong way."

"What he needs is a good fuck."

"But I thought-"

"It won't happen often enough for him, and you know she's not, well.. oh fuck it we're adults." Chris rolled his eyes, "Rachel likes him, yeah. But they bat for the wrong teams for it to work. Or at least I know Rachel does, Keith is another thing altogether. It shouldn't be that complicated but it is and they have to deal with it before I snap and smack them both."

Richard let out a small chuckle, idly cleaning his glasses, "I hate to see Secret Service try to break that up.. or maybe he'd be so caught off-guard it would be one-sided."

Chris rolled his eyes again, but smiled and rubbed out the smoking cigarette (or what was left of it), tossing the stub over the tallest hedge. "Come on, let's get back to work. Babysitting our boss that is."

But when they stopped outside the office, they heard a low murmuring of voices. Upon putting their ears to the door, making sure to take light footsteps, they could both discern that one voice belonged to Keith, the other close to his in tone but a bit higher. Rachel. Chris slowly pushed the door open and peeked around very very cautiously. He barely muffled a chuckle and pulled back, tugging a confused Richard away. Turns out there wasn't going to be any sense-smacking anytime soon, and Chris made sure to tell the interns to steer clear of the Communications Director's office for awhile unless they wanted to catch their boss in a legal but still compromising position. Smart interns didn't need to be told twice.

*****

Rachel stretched and felt her shoulders pop in that satisfying way, then looked over at Keith, drooling a bit and seemingly not chilled at all even though he was half naked and she had stolen the throw from his couch.

The sun was just starting to set throwing a warm orange glow over the office, but still she reached over to turn on a lamp and pull her glasses on. When Keith stirred a few minutes later she had her laptop open and was typing away. He leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder, then read the report she had open and was typing notes on. Then he clicked the television on, sighing,

"Oh Rach.. you better be careful."

"Hm?" She looked up to see where he was pointing on the screen. Splashed across the screen were headlines like: 'Frustrated Americans protest big government take over' and 'Gun-rights activists and tea party members raise ruckus over health care bill and gun control bill.' And picture after picture of people holding signs and yelling in angry raised voices.

"Where'd all this come from I wonder?"

"Nowhere. It's the same pool of people that have always hated what they think is a too-powerful government."

"That's not what I mean." Rachel straightened up, stretched and began typing furiously, and as Keith looked over her shoulder, apparently googling every news site and right wing blog that she could think of. "Aha.. this week a bunch of rallies were planned.. all by one organization: FreedomWorks."

"Who?"

"They're a company that fund various right wing groups, like the tea party people we've heard about a few times, painting themselves as good citizens by helping others participate in democracy. The reason we're only seeing the tea party groups make more headlines now is that they're getting more funding and inflated numbers."

"Sounds fishy- nah it actually is."

"Understatement, it's downright disgustingly corrupt."

Keith leaned over again and pressed his face into her neck, thankfully his glasses didn't hurt his nose too much, and sighed.

"You have a couple speaking events out there, you know."

"I know."

"The President does too."

"Keith, I know."

"Just be careful ok?"

"You know I'll try." She kisses his cheek and pulled the blanket over them, clicking her laptop shut. Work could wait a bit longer.


	4. Adventures in Politics (4/4)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Current mood:**|   
creative  
---|---  
 **Entry tags:**|   
[au](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/au), [fic](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/fic), [rating:pg-13](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/rating:pg-13), [series:whitehouse](http://audeamus.dreamwidth.org/tag/series:whitehouse)  
  
Adventures in Politics (4/4)  
 **Word Count** : ~2000  
 **Rating** : PG-13 for gun violence  
 **Pairing/Characters** : K/R, all the usual crew  
 **Author Notes** : I want to work on a sequel or something that will fill in gaps, but tissues first for getting this large thing done  
 **Summary** : Punditverse meets some kind of West Wing, except they're the ones running the show

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. 

"Mr. President. MR. PRESIDENT! BRIAN WAKE UP PLEASE."

A disheveled Brian answered the frantic knocking on the Lincoln bedroom doors, bleary eyed and frowning. "Keith what the fuck, are we getting bombed or something? Fine time for Iran to test their nukes.. "

"It's worse. It's Rachel she.. " Keith let out a choked sob, "S-she's at George Washington with three bullets in her. I don't know if she'll be o-ok."

Brian went as white as a sheet, holding tight to the doorknob. Everything seemed to shrink or expand until he was dizzy and sick. He had to sit down,

"Keith.. I'll go with you to the hospital.. just give me a sec. Tell me what happened. Slowly."

He fetched him a glass of brandy and water, and led Brian to a chair. "She was on her way back to the motorcade after a speaking event about the gun control legislation. Some guy melted out of the crowd.. too quick for Secret Service to spot or disarm him. He.. it was a young man.. Caucasian I think. So young and angry.. "

Keith bent over in his own seat, holding his head and breathing hard. He could have been crying, his shoulders were shaking hard enough, and Brian didn't try to say anything to comfort him. He only wrapped his arms around Keith, and knelt in front of him, petting his back in an awkward embrace, trying to express comfort through other means.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, then Keith stood up, wiping his face with a handkerchief and sniffling heavily,

"C-come on.. maybe there's some news.. "

Brian nodded and he grabbed his coat. They walked quickly down the halls, agents in their shadows and headed out into the night.

The streets were oddly quiet, traffic unusually light and Brian realized that there must be all kinds of barricades and police patrolling, looking for the man who did this. He looked over at Keith and saw something in the man's face that made his heart break a little more than when he had first heard the news. He seemed to have buckled into himself a bit, his face covered in new lines and wrinkles.

They couldn't have reached the hospital any faster, and Keith couldn't seem to get in the ER doors and through the barricade of nurses to Rachel's side quick enough. But it was enough that she looked peaceful in sleep, breathing a bit raggedly, but breathing nonetheless. Keith squeezed her hands gently with his, making them vanish in his grip.

"Rach.. it's me. we're here... you're safe.. "

She mumbled something low and rolled her head toward his voice, but didn't wake up, but Keith did get a smile when she began to snore. Brian gave a small chuckle when she snorted, not believing that his Press Secretary was the kind to snore. He looked around at all the instruments, beeping and whirring away, suddenly feeling nervous but not able to explain it. He wondered where the rest of the staff were and perhaps they had not been able to follow her past the emergency room.

Then a young woman in a white coat and name tag walked in, interrupting his train of thought,

"Mr. President, erm.. "

Keith introduced himself and she continued, "Ms. Maddow is stable now. She had three bullet wounds, two exited and we were able to extract the third in surgery. There wasn't a lot of tissue damage and no major arteries and organs were hit. She'll need to stay here for at least a few days."

Both of them gave a long sigh of relief and wonderment at their friend's fortune and the woman continued, "I'm her general physician for now, and if you need to talk to me, just ask one of the nurses at the desk for Dr. Redford." She gave them each a small smile, "And feel free to conduct business on your cell phones, I know the President and his staff need to keep in touch. Just keep it discreet? I don't want to get in too much trouble with my boss."

"Thank you doctor. Thank you." Brian smiled softly as she walked out. He turned to see Keith clasping Rachel's hand again and he sighed,

"Do you want to stay the night, Keith?"

"Yes sir."

"As long as you're in the office before noon having showered and changed into clean clothes, you can. Look after her for all of us hm? We'll all visit her tomorrow and for as long as she's here."

"Thank you sir." Keith gave him a teary strained smile, and turned back to her. He patted Keith on the shoulder then turned, walking down to the emergency room presumably to exit but instead finding a very haggard looking senior staff. Ana looked to be just coming out of tears, and was leaning heavily against Richard Engel. Chris Hayes stood up so quickly, the chair was shoved back,

"Sir, Mr. President, did you hear the-"

"Yes, Chris. And she's alright. Keith's with her now and she's fast asleep."

The room's mood lightened considerably and Richard Wolffe gave a small smile, "Does she have kevlar for skin or something?"

Brian chuckled and dug his hands into his pockets, "No but that's a good idea to pass onto the Pentagon, genetically engineered Kevlar-like skin.. "

Chris sat back down, Richard snaking a hand around his and whispering something softly in his ear, which made Chris nod and type something on his blackberry. Engel looked a bit far-away even as he comforted a still upset Ana, and Lawrence in the background talking softly on his cellphone, though who was on the other end he could could only fathom a guess.

He watched them disperse slightly as they each called loved ones and staff, and Brian directed Ana to call the rest of Rachel's staff to start preparing a statement for the press. They wouldn't hold a conference or anything, just release word and news to the major networks. And to himself, Brian thought, send a message to whatever sick mind was thinking he had succeeded. A big 'fuck you' and reminder that as human as they were, his staff was made of stronger stuff.

*****

Once Rachel was able to return to work, she had an arm in a sling for a few weeks. Within hours it was covered in signatures and well wishes, and she felt like she was in middle school, coming back from the doctor's after a sports injury.

She handled the press briefing like a pro, Ana nearby to hand her notes and her glasses. The press fielded a lot of questions linking the attempted assassination with the gun control legislation, and Rachel volleyed answers like a pro, though when Keith paid very close attention something dimmed a little in her expression when she was giving an answer. Like part of her wasn't completely there, and he brought this up with Chris one day when they were halfway through reading a report on similar legislation in other countries (their limits on gun ownership and the like).

Chris sighed and sipped at the tea that Richard had brought him earlier, "It could be PTSD, but she should talk to a professional first. I got a degree in philosophy not psychology."

"Why do we never call you Socrates or Plato?"

"Good question. Bring that up next time you try to call Ana, carrot top."

"That was only once and when we first met, a joke!"

Chris grinned insufferably, leaning back in his chair and crossing an arm behind his head lazily, "She still pranked you didn't she?"

Keith grumbled and drank his own tea, "I'll talk to her later."

"Hm.. interesting. Apparently our levels of gun-related violent crimes are on par with Zimbabwe and Paraguay."

Keith sputtered and coughed up what must have been half his cup of tea, "You're.. you.. really?"

"Of course its more complicated than what you think, but still.. its not something you can just brush aside."

"You sound you're writing a speech out loud.. " When Chris continued, Keith wisely shut his mouth and handed his deputy a pad of paper, not being able to hold back a smile as he watched the bits of thought flow into what looked like the beginnings of a good speech. Brian had a rally coming up where he hoped to convince more of the population and some key Congress members to see why stronger gun control legislation was needed.

******

  
When Rachel had her first nightmare, she called Keith and he was at her apartment within minutes. She described the dream as something hazy but with her running from something tall and dark but unable to tell what it was. He pulled her into a tight hug and rocked her in his arms as she sniffled and fell back asleep.

They went into work together, fifteen minutes apart and no one looked twice at Keith's rumpled clothes.

The second and third time Keith slept next to her and not in the living room because she clung to his hand, and woke a few times in the middle of the night. He kept close by even after the first and second week of nightmares. But on the fifteenth night he pulled her into his lap, her still shaking from yet another frightening dream,

"Rach.. you need to get some help.. "

She shook her head as it pressed to his chest, mmmphing something too. "Yes you do, otherwise this'll keep happening every night."

But she had fallen asleep or was putting on a very good act, so Keith sighed and tucked her back under the covers, shedding his pants and shirt, leaving an undershirt and boxers, and joining her under the blanket. Before he turned out the lamps, he looked at her baggy eyes and how her clothes were hanging a little too loosely for his comfort.

He'd get her help or he'd drag her to see a doctor himself.

*****

Rachel woke up with Keith cuddling her to his chest, half sprawled across the man. She untangled herself very slowly so as to not wake him, and tiptoed to her bathroom. Once her bladder was emptied, she splashed cold water on her face even if it was slightly chilly in her apartment. Sighing at the dark circles under her eyes, Rachel made funny faces at her reflection, then went to get some scrap of breakfast together. It was very tempting just to pour a few shots or make a side car, something to banish the sounds of gunshots or the images of angry people from her mind, but she munched on toast instead.

Keith was up after she put on the radio and had tuned into NPR. He kissed her cheek and finally her mind began to let go of some of the images, even more so when he picked up the paper from her doorstep and asked for help on the crossword.

After about twenty comfortable minutes of silence, Keith began scratching out something on a piece of paper. Rachel waited for him to finish, thinking it to be a number she needed for the day's business, but when he slid the paper across to her hand she was taken aback.

"You looked up a psychiatrist."

"She helped me deal with what happened to you. At least she's done a good job so far.. my nightmares are rarer now than when they were a month ago. Just give her a shot. For me, please." Keith curled a hand around the pen, looking as though he were torn between tears or something even worse if she said no.

For a long time, Rachel chewed her lip and looked out the window but her eyes didn't dim so Keith knew she was really thinking. Then she turned to him and nodded, a small smile playing around her lips.

"Ok."


End file.
